by Cassie Miles
But Carlson had put her through hell with his late-at-night whispered messages and his creepy stalking. He was probably responsible for slashing her wedding gown, and she knew that he’d do anything for Neil.
She heard the front door of the house slam. To Shane, she whispered, “Now do we run?”
“There’s something I need to check out. Stick with me.”
He dodged across the open space that separated the house and the garage, frequently looking over his shoulder to make sure Carlson hadn’t spotted them. At the three-car garage, he opened the side door, pulled her inside and closed it.
Darkness surrounded them. Her nostrils twitched with the stink of grime and oil. Shane hit the light switch by the door, and a couple of bare bulbs cast a dim light.
Against the back wall was a workbench with an array of tools. Underneath were two five-gallon gas cans. She looked past the typical clutter that accumulates in a garage—trash cans and stuffed black garbage bags, an old television set, a broken rocking chair, a snowblower.
At the far end of the garage was a black truck—the same type of vehicle that had killed Tom five years ago.
The sight of it shocked her. Was this the same truck? Her throat tightened; she was unable to breathe. In her mind, she replayed the moment of his death. The clock read ten twenty-three. Through her phone, she heard the violent, fatal crash and Tom’s whispered last words: Love you, too. Then silence.
Shane crossed the garage and went to the front of the truck. His hand rested on the fender. He leaned close, studying the joint between the fender and the door. When he looked at her, his gaze was stricken.
In a deathly calm voice, he said, “It’s a ’97 or ’98. This fender has been replaced. The paint doesn’t match the rest of the truck. There’s no way of knowing if this is the original bumper or not.”
This was the truck. She knew it. She sensed it.
Furious, she charged forward. With both fists, she hammered at the wall of the truck bed. She lashed out again and again as though she could destroy this damn thing with her bare hands. Overwhelmed with incomprehensible rage, she staggered backward until she bumped against the workbench. Her hands flew up to cover her face.
She should have been sobbing, but the tears didn’t come. Her eyes squeezed shut. Her vision went dark. She could see the headlights of the truck coming toward her, not slowing down. The truck careened, faster and faster.
Shane wrapped her in his embrace. Wordlessly, he held her. She knew he was struggling, too. She could feel the tension in his arms. Tom had been his cousin, his best friend.
“I should have known it was Carlson,” she said. “As soon as we figured out that he was stalking me, I should have known. He always woke me up at ten twenty-three. On the night when you came to the house, I thought I saw truck lights through the kitchen window.”
Carlson had been acting out Tom’s death, night after night. He used that tragedy to haunt her.
She shivered and buried her face against Shane’s chest. “You have to arrest him.”
“First, I need proof.” He gently stroked her back. “This truck says something to you and me, but I doubt there’s going to be anything in the way of forensic evidence. It was five years ago, and the truck has been repaired.”
“What about records of the repair job? Receipts from a body shop? There’s got to be something.”
“There is,” he assured her. “Carlson won’t get away with murder. And when he confesses, I’ll arrest the man who put him up to it.”
Carlson wasn’t acting alone. He was a stooge—a stupid, pathetic toady who was capable only of following instructions. “It was Neil, wasn’t it?”
“Neil or Prentice. Or both of them.”
The whole terrible plot became clear. Neil and Prentice had manipulated Tom so he would insist on having their embryos frozen. Then they killed Tom to get control of her. She’d readily agreed to the IVF procedure. “I fell right into their trap.”
“Don’t blame yourself. You had no way of knowing what they were doing.”
“Because I didn’t know about the Prentice-Jantzen study, didn’t know that I had been genetically engineered.”
Eve had told her that there were only two females from that study. Prentice needed her to create the second generation: Benjy. She shook herself. “They can’t get away with this.”
“They won’t,” he assured her. “They’re all going to jail.”
Those were the words she wanted to hear. She wanted to know that Tom’s death would be avenged.
ON THE DRIVE BACK TO THE sheriff’s office, Angela fidgeted in the passenger seat, wishing she could make Shane’s car move faster. “Are you sure the deputy you left watching the house won’t let Carlson get away?”
“You heard my instructions. Don’t let anyone leave but if somebody else shows up, don’t stop them. Let them enter.”
“Why do we have to go to the courthouse?”
“I need to coordinate the evidence, inform the sheriff and get a warrant. I’m making this arrest by the book. The worst thing that could happen now is to have these guys get off on a technicality.”
Earlier, she hadn’t wanted to press charges against Prentice because he could afford a dream team of lawyers. But this was different. They were talking about murder—Tom’s murder.
She looked over at Shane. With his jaw set and his eyes focused straight ahead, he looked like a man on a mission—strong and determined. “I can always trust you to do the right thing.”
“It’s my job.”
“For now,” she said. “But you’re not going to be a deputy much longer.”
“And this arrest is one hell of a fine way to end my law enforcement career. I’ll finally get justice for Tom.”
A rush of gratitude went through her. She was so glad that he was in her life. In the midst of sorrow and rage, Shane had always stood beside her. The love she felt for him grew deeper every day, and she wanted to tell him what was in her heart.
But now probably wasn’t the best time.
He glanced toward her. “When we get to the courthouse, I’ll arrange for someone to take you to the horse ranch so you can be with Benjy.”
“I want to come with you.”
“It’s police business.”
She had a stake in what happened—perhaps the biggest stake, but she didn’t want to get in the way. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Talk to Neil’s mother.”
Shane’s phone calls to headquarters had already produced results. A search of records showed that Stilton was the maiden name of Janice Revere’s mother. After her divorce, Janice Revere used the name Janice Stilton until she remarried and added a hyphen. She was now Janice Stilton-Parke, and she worked as a psychologist at a private clinic in Vermont.
Shane said, “I don’t think she’ll be useful as a witness. She left Colorado twenty-four years ago.”
“When Neil was only twelve.” Though Angela couldn’t imagine how any mother could leave her child, she wouldn’t pass judgment until she’d heard the whole story.
SHORTLY AFTER THEY ARRIVED at the courthouse, Shane directed her into an office that wasn’t being used. There was an empty desk, a chair and a telephone. He placed a piece of paper with the phone numbers for Neil’s mother on the desk.
He sat her in the swivel chair, turned her toward him and leaned down to kiss her on the lips.
She pulled back. “We shouldn’t. I don’t want people to get the wrong idea.”
“Too late,” he drawled. “Most people already think we’re sleeping together. I mean, we’re a couple of consenting adults, staying in a secluded cabin without a television.”
“Why does a TV make a difference?”
“I’m easily distracted.”
“Are you telling me that you’d find television more interesting than making love?”
“That depends. If we had the satellite sports network, I might be—”
She rose to her feet, held his face i
n her hands and kissed him hard and long. Just as she felt him beginning to respond, she ended the kiss. “Make no mistake, Shane. I’m way better than ESPN.”
He gave her a pat on the butt and headed toward the door. “Take your time with the phone call.”
His joking around had been just what she needed to relax. She sat behind the desk and dialed.
When a woman answered, Angela asked, “Is this Janice Stilton-Parke?”
“Yes, it is. Who’s calling?”
“My name is Angela Hawthorne. I need to ask you a few questions about your son, Neil Revere. This is very important. Please don’t hang up.”
“I don’t think I can help you.” Her voice was calm and reasonable—exactly what Angela would expect from a psychologist. “I’m estranged from my son and haven’t seen him in years.”
“Neil and I were engaged.”
“Past tense,” Janice noted. “I have a few minutes, Angela. Go ahead and ask your questions.”
It would be the height of cruelty to call this woman out of the blue and tell her that her son had turned into a murderer. Angela chose her words carefully. “When were you divorced from Roger?”
“Over twenty years ago.”
“Was there a pre-nup?”
“No, but Roger is a lawyer. He used the courts to his advantage and obtained full custody of Neil. I tried to stay in contact. Made every effort. Until Neil told me he wanted nothing more to do with me.”
“Do you remember Dr. Edgar Prentice?”
“Yes.” Her answer was clipped, terse.
Angela asked, “What was your relationship with him?”
“Edgar was a friend of Roger’s. They knew each other for years, even before we were married.”
“Do you own property in Clear Creek County?”
There was a pause. “I suppose my name is on the property. Edgar purchased the land and cabin. He pays all the taxes and bills.”
“Did you ever live on that property?”
“You’re being very circumspect, Angela. It’s not necessary. Long ago, I made peace with the feelings I have about my first marriage and my estrangement from Neil. I was foolish. I made a mistake, and I paid for it.”
“The mistake,” Angela said. “Was it Dr. Prentice?”
“I had an affair with him. That was why we were so clandestine about the cabin. I didn’t want my husband to know that I’d betrayed him. He suspected that I had a lover, but I never told him that I was sleeping with his best friend.”
Uncomfortable, Angela stared at the blank wall opposite the desk in the empty office. It wasn’t her style to pry into another woman’s life, but Janice seemed to be forthcoming and honest. “When did your affair with Prentice start?”
“I know the answer you’re looking for, Angela. I never acknowledged this to Neil or his father, but it should have been obvious. They look nothing alike. Over the years, I’ve followed my son’s career. It was no accident that he went into the field of medicine.”
Angela knew what was coming next. “Like his father?”
“That’s right,” Janice said. “Edgar Prentice is Neil’s biological father.”
Chapter Twenty-One
In the courthouse, Shane paced the hallway outside the sheriff’s office while the logistics of Carlson’s arrest were being worked out. Since the murder took place in Park County, the sheriff in that jurisdiction needed to be advised. Shane was glad they had good reciprocal relations with Park County. He’d been there just a couple of days ago looking for information about Prentice’s cabin.
Five years ago, when Tom was murdered, Shane had frequently conferred with the Park County investigators assigned to the case. He’d studied the photographs of the crime scene and reviewed the meager evidence, including the bloody fingerprint on Tom’s SUV.
Five years ago, they found no match for the fingerprint. Since then Carlson had gotten himself arrested in Aspen for being drunk and disorderly. Now his prints were in the system. And Carlson’s prints matched those found at the scene of the crime.
Shane had laid out his murder theory for the sheriff who agreed that they should be on the lookout for Prentice and Neil. At the very least, they were witnesses.
Sticking to the letter of the law helped Shane control his need for revenge. The minute he saw that damn truck, he wanted to rip Carlson’s head off. That little bastard had killed a good man; he should suffer the ultimate punishment. But Shane didn’t want this to end with Carlson. Neil and Prentice were equally culpable.
Down the hallway, he saw Angela leave the office where she’d been talking on the phone. She walked toward him with her head held high. Her cheeks flamed with color. She stepped into his arms and held on tight. Though the shape of her body had become familiar during their nights of lovemaking, the sensation of holding her still amazed him. After all these years, they’d found their fit as lovers.
“How was the phone call?” he asked.
“Tragic. I feel bad for Neil’s mother.”
“Before you tell me about her, I should show you this.” He took an envelope from his back pocket. “The DNA results.”
“It’s still sealed.”
“I thought you should be the one to open it.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think I can take any more shocks today. You read it and tell me what it says.”
He escorted her to the wooden bench against the wall outside the sheriff’s office, and he sat close beside her. Her posture was erect, as though her spine were a steel rod. He knew she was tense. If Benjy wasn’t her biological child, she might be better off not knowing. “Are you ready for this?”
“Just get it over with.”
Using his thumb, he opened the envelope and took out four sheets of paper. One was a copy of Angela’s DNA profile that Eve had sent. There were two other similar sheets for Benjy and Neil. Shane didn’t have the scientific know-how to interpret the results, but the technician had enclosed a cover letter to explain.
He skimmed the letter until he found the pertinent sentences which he read aloud. “The accuracy is 97.8 percent. Subject A (Angela) and Subject N (Neil) are the genetic parents of Subject B (Benjy).”
“Neil,” she said. “Neil is Benjy’s father?”
“Maybe not. It’s only 97.8 percent accurate.”
“No wonder he was so determined to get custody. Benjy is his son.”
“That’s the biological part,” he said. “As far as I’m concerned, Benjy is the child born from the love between you and Tom. You both planned for him. You went through the frozen embryo process together. He’s Tom’s boy.”
“That’s a good way for me to think of it.”
But he could tell that she wasn’t convinced. The fraud Prentice had perpetrated on her was particularly cruel. He’d lured her and Tom to his clinic, had extracted her egg and fertilized it with Neil’s sperm. All without her consent or knowledge.
He held her chin and turned her face toward him. In her eyes, he saw pain and anger and other emotions he couldn’t identify. “You’re going to be all right with this.”
“You don’t know the worst part,” she said. “Neil’s mother had an affair with Prentice. He’s Neil’s biological father.”
And Benjy’s grandfather.
IN THE PARKING LOT behind the courthouse, Angela watched as Shane and three other deputies headed toward two vehicles. They’d broken out the bulletproof vests and heavy weaponry. Shane had told her that they were going to arrest Carlson, but he’d be taken to Park County where he’d be formally charged and incarcerated.
Shane strode over to where she was standing. “This is going to be over soon.”
“I still don’t understand why I can’t come with you.”
“Taking a murder suspect into custody is official police business. Not a spectator sport.”
She leaned close and whispered, “You didn’t mind having me along when we broke into the Stilton house.”
“And we almost got caught.” He handed over t
he keys to his Land Rover. “Take my car and wait for me at Calvin’s horse ranch. But I don’t want you driving alone. Get one of the dispatch officers to go with you.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.”
“And you don’t need to take risks,” he said. “As long as Neil and Prentice are still at large, you’re in danger.”
One of the deputies motioned to Shane. She knew he had to hurry, but she hated being left behind. Seeing Carlson in handcuffs would bring her much-needed satisfaction. “Please let me come along.”
He slapped a cell phone into her hand. “I’ll call you and tell you everything that happens.”
After giving her a peck on the cheek, he went to join the others. He looked good walking away. She’d always thought his uniform was sexy.
Resigned to her passive role, she juggled the car keys in her hand. In spite of Shane’s warning, she figured she could manage the drive to Calvin’s ranch by herself. Riding alone would give her time to think and absorb all that had happened today.
She went to his Land Rover and got behind the wheel. After adjusting the seat and the rearview mirror, she fastened her seat belt and drove away from the courthouse. The route to Calvin’s horse ranch led away from town into the forest. These untraveled roads were pleasant; she did some of her best thinking when she was driving.
Knowing the truth about Benjy’s DNA worried her. Though she took solace in the fact that he was genetically engineered to be a genius, she hated to think that he might inherit Prentice’s lack of ethics or Neil’s arrogance. Surely, those traits were learned behavior. She couldn’t imagine her little guy being cruel in any way.
But Janice Revere must have felt the same way about her son. When Neil rejected her and sided with his father and Prentice, she must have been hurt.
Later, Angela might contact Janice and tell her about Benjy, offer her the chance to know her grandson. Benjy didn’t have other grandparents. The closest thing to extended family he had was Shane’s parents. And Eve, she reminded herself. Her half sister.
